As the World Falls Down
by blacksilkrose123
Summary: As years come and go, Sarah finds herself in an emotional standstill. The End of the World is no place to face alone--but is she?


As the World Falls Down

As the World Falls Down

©2008 ARR

disclaimer: sadly, I don't own Sarah or Jareth, however, the rest are mine. long live the Goblin King and his mortal 3

"Sarah, come away with me," he pleaded. His tone had lost that regal, arrogant quality, replaced, instead, with a soft urgency so unfitting for a king.

She laughed heartlessly, turning her back on him. "I cannot tell you how many times I imagined you saying that. I waited—waited so long. I nearly killed myself over you, wondering if you were thinking of me. So many times I called on you. And you never came," she whispered darkly. Her skin of lace had fallen into an unsteady frown, perhaps, remembering some distant past that had not included Jareth.

He swallowed hard and pressed on, a pained expression overtaking his gripping features. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the day you left, Sarah. I tried," his voice grew heavy, "oh, how I _tried._ You turned my world upside down, and suddenly, when you left, nothing was the same. There were others after you—foolish others who wished away loved ones. None came close to what you did. You mesmerized me, confused me, _angered_, even. But I never stopped loving you." Jareth coughed uncomfortably, swaying his balance as if his previous words had drained him of everything. "I'm not leaving without you."

"Then _why_ didn't you come?" she spat, furiously rounding on him. His eyes widened in a moment of temporary weakness. He pressed back the surprise and slipped on his cool mask of indifference. The Jareth she remembered.

"Because, _my sweet_, you took everything I had over you. When you said those words, you had _no_ idea what disturbance they would create; imbalance. My kingdom suffered greatly. I had been bested by a snobbish, spoiled brat—a human, no less. I became obsessed with the only being that ever was my perfect match. I underestimated you. And because of my stupidity, with your final words, I no longer had any control. I was doomed." Slow, determined steps allowed Jareth to circle her like a predator stalks its prey. His fixed gaze held her rooted to the spot. She nearly melted under that penetrable stare, promising the world in those mismatched orbs.

Jareth paused long enough to study her for a moment. Her entire frame was too thin for comfort, and she was shaking uncontrollably. Had the world done this to her? Had _he_ done this to her?

"Jareth…" she trailed off, her voice cracking with emotion. Reluctantly, her eyes fell from his, darting around the room as if piecing together a puzzle and searching for the missing clue. She wanted to hate him, blame him for everything that had happened to her since then. So with newfound anger, she turned raging eyes back upon the undeserving fey. "Get out."

"_No._"

"I said, _get out!"_ she screamed. And without warning, Sarah flew at him with agility she did not know she possessed and attacked him with her tiny fists. One blow struck him in the chest, the other his shoulder, and the third, his cheekbone. It hardly affected him, only proving to worsen his slowly boiling fury.

"Not without you. _Never again_ without _you._" His voice was surprisingly calm, even as he grasped her wrists and twisted them painfully as he forced her back to his chest. She struggled, her chest heaving with overexertion.

Jareth pulled her closer, his strong arms tugging themselves snugly around her tiny waist, as if they had always belonged there. And slowly, Sarah calmed down, feeling his hot breath splash against her ear in a soothing rhythm of breaths, coos, and meaningless words. Magic. She felt the world slipping from under her, and without hesitation, she slumped back against him, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

He did not attempt to stir her, this peaceful child who had taken everything from him. Instead, he carefully pulled her over to the couch and remained content to hold her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the peace that had settled in around such rabid features. There was a time when he had dreamed of this for years, countless nights of tossing and turning, fretting in complete worry over his human. Before, it had been easy to spy on her with use of his crystal orbs, so distorted and yet so perfect in the palm of his hand. He was in control. But no more. He had lost sight of her a few days after their encounter. She'd lost the will to dream, to wish, to keep those childish hopes within her. She had grown up, and left all of that behind; including Jareth.

For years, seemingly millenniums, Jareth had fancied trips to the Aboveground. His mind had long ago given up, but his dead, cold heart remained unquenched in thirst to see her. '_Just one more time,_' he'd tell himself, '_and I'll be fine. One last look._' But for whatever reason, he remained holed up in his tower, a leg draped carelessly over the arm of his throne, riding crop in one gloved hand, beating out a merciless rhythm that no longer belonged to his heart. Neglect became popular, and his world endured sadly at his expense. He found he could not rid her face from his memory; no woman—mortal or immortal—could erase Sarah Williams. And he grew fond of her, imaginary circumstances and meetings filling his head with cumbersome fantasies and happily ever after's.

He glanced down at the girl in his arms, one thin, gloved finger pulling back a strand of stray hair. Jareth stared at it for a moment, so frail and breakable—so _human._ And without thinking, he twisted the string round his hand and pulled hard. It gave way, but not without jolting Sarah. She mumbled for a moment, groaning in pain and blinking sleepily. He paid no heed to her, merely wrapped the other end around his opposite hand and yanked, watching it snap easily. He was mesmerized—everything about Sarah suddenly reminding him how short life was for her kind. Anxiety overshadowed his carefree face and he turned his nose down to her, inhaling her shampooed head.

"Um, would you mind not sniffing me? I know I haven't taken a shower in a day, but jeez. No need to snort at it." Her eyes wearily lifted up to meet his rather amused ones, only to go tense. "Oh, it's you."

Jareth frowned. "Were you expecting a knight in shining armor of sorts, my dear? So sorry to disappoint." With his last retort, he stood up abruptly, letting the dazed and confused girl fall to the floor with a loud _thump!_

"No I—I didn't meant it to sound like that. I just…forgot, is all."

"I suppose I should have expected it. After all, you 'forgot' for nearly ten years." His words were curt and clipped, effectively slicing through her like a knife. Sarah winced. He sighed and continued. "Would it really be so horrible?"

"What?" She sounded tired and weak. Jareth restrained himself from changing the topic to something more suitable for her failing health.

"Coming with me? Living in my kingdom? You would want for nothing, would never have to lift another finger. Sarah, I promise you the stars. Everything. Just say yes, and you're gone from here. All I ask is that you wish it," he stressed. "_Wish yourself away with me._"

She shook her head, sullen. "I can't."

"Can't and won't are two entirely different meanings, Sarah. Which is it you are enforcing?"

"I have a family, Jareth. I can't just up and leave. And—there are other things. Other…people. I have a life here, Jareth. I've spent ten years trying to build it up, and then you," she waved her hand at him, "come along like nothing's changed. The fact is, _your majesty,_ everything has changed. _I_ changed."

Jareth frowned, deep in thought, picking through her words. When he had finished his internal struggle, clearly waging across knit brows and a tightly clenched jaw, he looked up, pain etched across his face. "Your feelings for me have changed?"

And suddenly, he looked like a child to Sarah. She ignored the hundreds of years engraved in his lifeline, spotting a helpless young boy, desperate for companionship. And for a moment, she wanted to give herself to him, just to erase that shadow of loneliness that hung like a parasitic cloud over his golden mane of hair. "They have," she nodded. But somewhere deep inside her, a voice carried whispers of lies and deceit.

A deep rumbling thundered. Sarah turned her face towards the sickly pale and yellowing sky. Deadly orbs of lightning flashed and slithered across the sky, promising tidal waves of destruction. For a moment, she pushed aside her fear and gazed in wonder. How could something so innocent and dark be the end of all things to come?

"It's time." Jareth's words seemed to echo for an eternity. Sarah looked back at him, watching him study her with an intensity so great, she nearly collapsed in a dead faint again. She nodded, as if agreeing with him that the weather was nice. Like a robot programmed for happiness, she smiled. It was forced, but it was enough.

Her eyes wandered back to the magnetic pull of chaos below her window. Screams rose up in the air with the smoldering heat, the sky wavering in the onslaught of flames. People were fleeing about like tiny ants, ducking for cover and shelter. She felt some draw, some compelling instinct to join them in their doom. Sarah took a step towards the window, only meaning to get closer to her fate; not jump. But a closed, gloved hand around her wrist and a slight tug told her Jareth had thought otherwise.

"Don't go."

And as quick as lightning, her anger had returned. "I have to."

"No. It does not have to be like this. You can escape it all."

"And the people I love?"

Jareth's eyes faltered, glancing away as if he felt he was imposing on a secretive moment of Sarah's. She scowled.

"I am not one of your royal subjects you can just boss around, Jareth. I've made a life here, and here it will stay."

"I'm afraid I do not understand. You left it all too willingly before. Why not now?" His voice was terse with jealousy, spitting out the words through clenched teeth. Gloved fingers fisted and then expanded, only to pull back again.

"If your Labyrinth was in ruins, your goblins—or subjects—dying, and everything on the verge of collapsing—would you not stay with it until the end? Is it not your duty to remain?"

Jareth cocked his head to the side and frowned. "This is different."

"No, it's exactly the same. These are _my_ people, _my_ kind. I may not be a queen, but I belong with them, and I will suffer the same fate they suffer. I cannot cheat my way out of death—I'm _human_, Jareth," her voice turned desperate, pleading with him to understand how different they were. "I'll die eventually. I might as well do it with dignity." Her chin rose up in the air defiantly, as if she were arguing with her parents that Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny were real. He loved the way her lips jutted out in a small pout, eyes white with rebellion, and arms crossed languidly over her chest. He wondered how any beauty could ever compare.

"Yes. But I do not think I could bear it, Sarah Williams."

"You've lived your life without me for ten years. I assure you, if you've survived this far, it can be done. Others will trip up into your Labyrinth and defy you just as I did. You'll grow bored with my memory and accept your new trinket."

He was glaring daggers now, heat seething off of him in flames. "There will _never_ be another you. None can replace this hole you've made _here_," he pressed a gloved hand firmly against his chest, over his barely beating heart. "Only you fill it, my love. Only you." His eyes spoke volumes, and Sarah suddenly felt like breaking down in tears. Her throat closed, searing tears burning against the backs of her eyes. Something hot welled up in her chest and threatened to explode.

"You—you would force me, then—to go with you?" her small, hushed voice asked.

Jareth shook his head furiously, enraged at her ever thinking such a thing. "I cannot _make_ you come with me, Sarah. Just as I cannot make you love me. Those are your own choices, something I no longer have a part in. But time grows short." Crossly, he folded his arms over his chest and stared at her impatiently, waiting.

Sarah backed away, tears brimming over and slipping quietly down her cheeks. They did not go unnoticed, but Jareth remained silent, pensive. She did not stop until her back bumped up against the door. Unsteady fingers fumbled for the doorknob, trying desperately to hold onto something firm. An anchor. She felt that if she let go of her world, she'd float away like a dandelion seed off into the wind, and never return.

The door slipped open with a wheezing creek and Sarah shifted her weight uneasily, inching her way through the crack slightly. She remained in sight, her eyes always trained on Jareth, whose face was slipping into a feral snarl. Hurt and betrayal pooled in his eyes, for once breaking free of his apathetic mask. "This is your choice, then?"

Eyes stained red, flushed cheeks burning with salty streams, and fluttering wisps of hair were the last he saw as she turn and ran out the door. Her feet carried her past five identical rooms, down three flights of stairs, and out into the musty world. Smoke clouded her vision, sirens pierced her ears, and people pushed and trampled past her. But she pressed on, with newfound determination. For once, she knew where she was going. If anywhere, it was where she wanted to be when the world stopped turning.

Leaded legs treaded straight to the hospital. It was dark and dank, emergency lights flickering and the putrid white walls closing in. Doctors in crisp lab coats rushed about the rooms, nurses near panic and patients screaming for answers. The world had never looked so morbid.

Sarah followed her heart, down the hallway and to the right, taking another left and pausing at the third door. Something tugged at her stomach, a sickly nausea overcoming her. The hallways began to twist and swirl, dizziness attacking the girl with a vicious ferocity.

The spell passed soon enough, and Sarah found herself facing an empty bed, sheets made up with tables once full of flowers and get well cards completely empty. He wasn't there. Her heart caught in her throat, and for a split second, she thought she would vomit it up. She couldn't breathe, her entire body shaking violently. Sarah's back crashed into the wall. She slid down helplessly, smells of antibacterial cleaners, medicine, and blood wafting through flaring nostrils. _Come on, Sarah. Breathe in, out; in, out._ She chanted it through her head, but couldn't seem to get her lungs moving. Stubbornly, they held their stance—air-less and burning.

An arm touched her shoulder and she looked up warily through blurred eyes. She blinked a few times, catching her breath and realizing it was a nurse. Thin, graying curls plastered her face, wrinkles framing her kind, soft grandmotherly eyes. "You okay, sweetie?" her thick, Southern drawl questioned, bending down to eyelevel and maintaining an affectionate hold on Sarah's shoulder. The girl shook her head stubbornly and ran the back of her wrist over her eyes, lifting a shaking finger to point at the empty bed. The woman's mouth formed a silent "O" and she glanced back sympathetically, allowing a quiet laugh to escape her cracking, aged lips.

"Honey, we moved him to another room. We needed to clear space for individually cared patients, so we moved him. Go down this hall, take a right, and he'll be your third door on the left." She sighed, running a hand delicately over Sarah's sweaty locks of brown. She offered a smile, rose to her feet, and strode off to help some other poor unfortunate soul.

Like a frightful animal separated from its herd, Sarah flew to her feet and out the door, only pausing for a moment to regain her composure before striding through the door. Jamie lay stretched out beneath the covers, his eyes closed and all kinds of machines beeping and recording vital signs. _To think, mankind's science is keeping him alive._

Sarah pulled up a chair next to his bed, the leg scraping loudly. She no longer cared about waking him. She had to know; had to see him.

Jamie's bright green eyes shot open, alert and glancing around the room until his gaze fell on Sarah. She blushed, and before she could soak in his warm, inviting smile, Sarah pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Jamie's arm came up to wrap around her, tugging her down beside him on the bed. He held her, content. His eyes never left her face.

"You've been crying," he noticed the dried-up streaks on her face, brushing the pad of his thumb against her cheeks lightly, lovingly. She shook her head and let out a choked laugh.

"It's nothing. Just a—a misunderstanding on my part." Jamie nodded, his brows still furrowed in concern. He did not press her farther.

Sarah hugged him tighter, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He smelled like fall; crackling leaves, smoking bonfires, and promises of snow. Jamie sighed. "I've missed you."

For a brief moment, Jareth's face flashed into her head like a slideshow, lips quirked to the side, smirking arrogantly at her, his eyes holding the world for her. She fought the memory, shoving it back inside—deep within her heart. "You saw me this morning," she laughed unsteadily; almost afraid Jamie had seen her fleeting look of love for another.

"Yes, but it feels like it's been forever and a day." He sighed, reaching up weakly and pressing her head against his chest. Sarah listened to his faint heartbeat, unconsciously counting them. _One and, two rest, three and, four rest._

Her fingers curled into the crisp bed sheets. Jamie's chin rested atop her matted hair, glad to have her safe and with him—for how much time he had left. His hand squeezed her waist gently, willing her to say something, anything to him. Just so he could hear her voice again and make sure she was real. "What's happening, Jamie?" she whispered, feeling lost and suddenly alone. "Why is this happening to us?"

He winced at her tiny, delicate voice. So innocent, so pure. An angel did not deserve death, he thought. And he would have done everything to ensure her life. But now—

"I love you." His words were barely above a hush, like a whisper in the wind on that fall day with crackling, dead leaves floating to the ground in heaps of decay.

Jamie could feel Sarah go rigid beneath his fingers. The stillness scared him, and he nearly pressed on, almost apologizing, until she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her eyes were blood-shot and her chin was quivering, too stubborn to let loose the dam that blockaded her emotions. "You're saying goodbye." Flat, emotionless, unresponsive. Her mask, he knew, slipped on carefully to hide the mysterious depths of her cataclysmic soul. He had wished for years she would open it up for him, let him delve in and repair whatever damage had been done; so that perhaps they could live a life free of regret and the past. So he could understand how much her ancient love had affected her, the loss. She had never mentioned anything of anyone, but it was there in her eyes every time it rained or she got that far-away look, daydreaming. He had died a thousand times over when she got that look, that overwhelming presence of lament and sorrow. It was a moment so private, that he had been forced to look away and bite back his jealousy. She needed time, he told himself. She would let go when she was ready. But she never did.

"Sarah, it's getting worse. Much worse. They can't do anything for me—too much is going on in the world for them to spend all their efforts and time on one case of cancer. I've asked for them to withhold life support. There are other people—better people—who need it." Jamie held his breath, watching Sarah chew her bottom lip mechanically, a small sliver of blood pooling at the rim of her flesh. Her face was unchanged, but he saw the wheels turning, searching for any solution that might fix everything.

"I can't—Jamie, you can't do this. This isn't right. It's not _fair._ You can't just give up like that. Please? You can't do this to me." She had adopted a light, wispy tone, nearly jovial. She was trying so hard. She'd pushed away love, only to have it come back and nip at her cruelly.

"It's life, Sarah," he shrugged half-heartedly. "And my time's up. There's no cure—they're merely prolonging it anyway."

Her eyes hardened, a dark shadow sweeping over her fragile face. "Don't you _dare_ say that. _Ever._ You act as if it's inevitable."

"It is, isn't it? I'm _mortal_, Sarah. I can only do so much," Jamie's icy tone cut through the thick air. And suddenly, the differences between her two loves swept over her with a bruising crash of waves. One could only promise tomorrow. The other—eternity.

"How long?" Crisp, curt, and cool.

"Not long."

Her cheeks flushed. "So, you mean to tell me, if I hadn't been able to make it here by tomorrow—I would come here to find an empty bed? You wouldn't have even told me?" Images of minutes before flashed through her mind like an old black and white movie. The folded, musty sheets, bare shelves, empty window, and dead machinery.

"It would have been better. You would have been strong."

She screamed, fingers clawing into her temples angrily. "Why does _everyone _think I'm _so damn strong?_" Her legs pulled her away from Jamie's determined grasp, letting his taped up hands fall to his sides, empty. She paced, hands still digging into her scalp in frustration.

"You hardly give yourself any credit, Sarah. You're the bravest, most determined woman I've ever had the fortune to meet, grow with, and love." He paused, eyes wavering for a moment, before falling shut tightly. He worked his jaw muscle, swallowing thickly before speaking through gritted teeth. "Let me go, Sarah." Those words seemed to open up the catacombs of her longing for Jareth. He'd tried all those years. _Let him go,_ Jamie's eyes had pleaded, every time the Goblin King had crossed her mind. But she couldn't. He was a part of her, and always had been, she supposed. He was embedded in her skin, her veins, her mind, her heart.

Sarah paused in her tempo of madness, staring at him for a moment. His closed eyes, bruised arms, swollen lips. And she knew.

The dam broke, salty raindrops dripping down her face in rivers of panic. She rushed to his side, throwing her arms around him, pressing her lips fiercely to his temple, his jaw, his nose, his chest. She rested her head for a moment, listening and wearing a grim, determined look. Sarah growled, her fists pumping his chest, then pinched his nose and blew into his mouth. Distant lessons of CPR wavered through her mind, suddenly coming back to her from previous life-guarding courses. It became second nature, and instinct, as she pumped his lungs for air. She waited, and in those few seconds, something screamed at her that it was too late. But Sarah Williams, hard-headed and unwilling to give up, continued to hope for the best.

She continued her ministrations, the room temperature dropping immensely like a new-fallen snow, and suddenly, she knew he was there. In the corner of the room, shadowed with gray, he watched with sad eyes, arms dangling helplessly at his sides. "Can't you do _anything_?" she gasped, exasperated. He winced at every touch of her lips to this stranger's, every fist delving into his chest with such determination and will. For a moment, Jareth thought her frustration was directed towards him, questioning his worth and purpose. But then he realized she was asking, pleading for this perfect stranger's life.

"I cannot." He sounded tired and weak, unable to tear his eyes from her desperation. The still man's shirt was practically soaked with her tears. She had stopped pressing her fists into his stomach, but merely left her lips brushed up against his cheek, whispering sweet nothings into his deaf ear. Jealousy flared up inside Jareth, but he pushed it back down with a collective calm he did not know he possessed.

"You're the Goblin King," she sneered. "Of course you can do something. You have powers, magic. Just _make him better._"

"Magic can only go so far."

"Fine." Sarah snarled, tensing for a moment as if about to whirl on him with her rage. But she remained with her forehead pressed up against the stranger's, arms clasped around him and hugging his cold body to hers. Then, her voice grew remarkably soft. "I _wish_ Jamie would live."

"_Sarah._" Jareth's tone sounded like a reprimand, harsh and admonishing toward her foolishness. But he could not help to grow cold with defeat at her affection towards this Jamie.

"I wished!" she shrieked desperately, pulling the young man's head to her neck and rocking back and forth. "I wished, _damn it!_ What do I have to do? Sell my soul? _Please_, just save him, Jareth. That's all I ask. You said you'd give me anything, _give me this._ Give me back Jamie."

Jareth's anger boiled on the brink of explosion. "I am the Goblin King, _Sarah_," he hissed her name, stepping closer to her until he could reach out and touch her hair if he wanted. "I am not the Grim Reaper, or Death himself. If you wanted the gift of death, then I am sorry to say, _you are in love with the wrong immortal._"

Sarah bent her head down in a silent prayer. Jareth's shoulders shook at his barely contained rage, closing in on her huddled form. An inferno had been lit. He _hated_ being ignored.

"I would give you the moon, the sun; thousands of galaxies, if that were your wish. I would whisk you away from all of this, unharmed and safe in my care for eternity. I would give you my heart on a silver platter—I already have. But what you ask, this," he waved his hand awkwardly at Jamie, "I cannot give. It is beyond my reach, my power. And perhaps my love has failed you in that respect, that I cannot restore to you the life of your _lover_," he spat. "But never have I turned my back on you, Sarah Williams. And I never will. All those years of silence between us, distance never gained between us, did it? I haunted your dreams, didn't I? I was in your every thought, every action, and every heartbeat. _Wasn't I?_" he demanded, his voice bellowing out in an uncontrollable fury. His fists shook, but he remained towering over her, dominant and severely dark in contrast to her small, shaking innocence. So snide, as if he had finally figured out this puzzle that was Sarah Williams.

"Yes," she whispered shakily. Sarah burrowed her face into Jamie's neck, sinking down into the detergent-soaked bed sheets. Something within Jareth cracked. Her confession melted the ice as quickly as it had built up, and regret washed over him in waves of embarrassment and melancholy. He suddenly wished wishes were not exclusive to him. He would wish back her life, her love, to the way things once were; a life that no longer included him. She had been happier, then, he hoped.

"Is this the end, then?" she spoke up, voice cloudy with sobs. Jareth was unsure of whether she was speaking of the world, or them. But he decided to answer anyway.

"Yes." After all, it was what she wanted. Wasn't it?

A loud crash suddenly echoed in the tiny hospital, vases crashing, tubes shattering, and machines toppling over, and sending the world back into a rocking chaos. Jareth glanced out the window to the darkening sky. It would all be over soon. And before he even turned his head back to Sarah, somehow, he knew she was already gone from the room.

Her sneakers squeaked in the hallways as she raced through winding bright walls in the maze of the hospital. People scurried about, most nurses and doctors joining her in the mad stampede for the exit. Only the faithful few remained behind and stayed with their patients. They would die heroes.

Running had become a popular escape for her, carrying her away from her problems, but always driving her into new ones. She wondered momentarily if Jareth had zapped himself back to the Underground, picking up a senseless routine she assumed he had, and going on about his life. As if she had never existed. And she supposed she never had to him. Ten years was a long time to hold onto something. His words of assurance were just that: words. They didn't mean anything. He'd never proven anything to her, so how could she be sure?

The herd of mad, crazed people, fighting for their lives, rushed out of the burning building and into the fiery streets, caked with dust and collapsed buildings. They had not seen the girl falter in her footing, or trip, or even get caught beneath the cascading ripples of cement. She had not made it far. To the horde, she was just another straggler, a left behind unfortunate. Sarah Williams was lost and forgotten, and she had not even made it out of the hospital doors.

The hallways seemed deserted, smoke choking the air with thick, graying clouds. Heat suffocated her, and the collapsed wall was crushing her lungs. Sarah had gone completely numb, all feeling lost below her waist, and her torso was tingling on the verge of unconsciousness. She fought it off desperately, twisting her head back and forth. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for its last breath, and in that moment, she knew it was over. Feet pounded past her, but no one saw the girl hidden beneath the crumbled ceiling. She grew envious of Jamie's quick death; but then, no death is quick. He had been struggling for his life for several months now.

And suddenly, the air grew less dense, a cool wind sinking over her face in the gentlest of caresses. Sarah cracked her smoldering eyes open, only to see the last person she expected. Jareth.

His lips moved, and a tone of urgency bit at her delicate ears, but she heard nothing. He frowned, shock and worry written into the lines of his flawless face. She wanted to tell him that he should not be concerned, that it was natural for humans to die. Maybe he didn't know what short lives they lived.

In a flash, his cape was thrown over her torso, wrapping around her like a winter's eve, cold to the touch. She welcomed it. Jareth was talking again—shouting. Sarah squinted, trying to make out his words, but it was no use. He was blurring, fading quickly in the smoke and ash that veiled her eyes. One last look was all she wanted.

His curtly cropped hair rustled in the flames, as if a faint breeze was tousling it with affection. Those crisp, slender arching brows were bent upwards, slanting into a creased forehead. Mismatched eyes held her still, and Sarah found herself willingly drowning in their depths. His pink, smooth lips, that could issue such harsh words and orders, now only pleaded and begged with her to stay awake. His fair skin never changed, but a slight blush graced his high cheekbones now. Clothing as regal as ever, Sarah faintly wondered how he could stand the heat in those layers of out-dated fashion that seemed to sparkle like the night sky and shimmer with his magic. She wanted to reach out and touch the stars of his vest, feel the curve of his popped collar, stroke the long tail of his upper garments, and stare into his ocean-green and earth-brown eyes forever.

"_Sarah! You—the words—too late—now!"_ he bellowed above the storm, clipped words that barely made sense. She shook her head, trying to shake off the sudden heavy urge to shut her eyes and sleep. Only for a little while.

The noise died down, and words spilled from his lips like a never-ending river, wild and untamed and yet fluid and resolute. "_Say the words, Sarah. I can do nothing until you do. Please, just say them. Sarah, believe me when I say, this is not your time. I will _not_ let you leave me, do you hear? Do you hear me, Sarah Williams? You foolish, spoiled girl! Do not be so selfish as to take your self from me. Sarah!_"

Her voice would not come, but she mouthed three, delicate words. Jareth's eyes widened in surprise, shaking his head and ducking out of sight. The fey allowed a single tear to grace his skin before he looked back up at her. _No_, he thought angrily, watching her eyes fade. _I will not let my mortal die._

His teeth sank into the tips of his gloves, ripping them off one at a time before letting the soft leather fall to the ground. Firm, smooth hands grasped her head within them, turning her face to look up at him. His eyes pleaded with her, before slowly, he bent his head down.

Sarah could not feel it at first. Just a quiet murmur of ice stroking her lips at first. But then it grew warmer, pressing urgently. Salty—tears?—made their way into her mouth as Jareth pulled away, sobbing silently.

"_I swear, Sarah Williams, by my birthright, that should you die this day, I will not live to see another sunrise._"

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, but those words struck her like a chord, smooth and unbearable. And then—, "_I wish…the Goblin King…would come and take me away…right…now…" _

A smile, a soft stroke, and a teardrop, splattering across her face into a million globes. "Your wish is my command, _my love._"


End file.
